


What if She Wanted Mark?

by ReallyEleanor



Series: What She Wanted [2]
Category: The Oregon Files - Clive Cussler
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-16 16:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyEleanor/pseuds/ReallyEleanor
Summary: Mark Murphy and an original character work on an ancient manuscript--and their relationship.  A different take on "What I Want."





	What if She Wanted Mark?

**Central Asia, four years ago**  
An explosion ripped apart the house in a poor area of Kandahar, taking half of the neighborhood with it. The house was, in fact, an IED factory; many American and coalition forces were victims of its products. Only a few people were killed, including the Taliban master bomb maker. One of the dead was a woman identified as Nur Asim, born in Jalalabad. Her death notice was published in a Kabul newspaper several days later. The stories were picked up by _Al Jazeera_ and broadcast internationally.

A small Afghan woman in a burka stood at the Torkham checkpoint waiting to cross into Pakistan. She handed the border guard her passport and uncovered part of her face. As the man compared the two, he gave a moue of distaste. The woman in the passport picture wasn’t pretty, but now the flesh and blood woman was scarred and ugly. Her little backpack was searched; nothing illegal was found. The guard contemplated taking her money, but there wasn’t enough to bother. He waved her through the gate, and she repeated the process on the other side. 

When the woman reached Islamabad, she went to the mosque at prayer time. In the women’s area, she removed her shoes and performed her ablutions. Her face received special attention; she scrubbed it well. She joined her sisters in prayer. She never came out.

The Pakistani Muslim woman in a dark-colored firaq partug and chador exited the mosque and walked to the market. She was short, but any other details of her appearance were covered. She bought a slightly larger backpack, a cheap cell phone, and things a woman would need. She went into an open-fronted store selling women’s clothing. She never came out.

The Pakistani Hindu woman with dusky skin and long, black hair in a bright salwar kameez and dupatta walked into the bank. A few minutes later, she exited the bank with a full backpack. She got into the car the bank manager called for her. It dropped her off at a hotel near the airport. The concierge accepted several deliveries for her room. When the maid came in to clean two days later, after her reservation had run out, she wasn’t in the room. She never came out. 

The small, pale English woman with mousy brown hair and blue eyes arrived at the airport in good time for her flight. The security agent noticed how young and carefree she looked in her passport photo. Now, she had the same unlined face, but there was gray in her hair and a lifetime of worries in her eyes. She wore conservative, inexpensive clothing and carried only a small backpack. She boarded the flight for London. 

It was over.

0----------------------------0  
**Norfolk Virginia, present day**  
Eleanor Harris opened her back door ready to walk out to her garden. Before she could take a step, the doorbell for the front door rang. She wasn’t expecting a package, a visitor, or a political candidate. She should have read that email from her contact before she went outside. With a sigh, Eleanor closed and locked the back door, stepped out of her clogs and into her sandals, and walked to the front door. 

“Doctor Harris?” The two Navy SPs at her door looked to be every bit of eighteen years old. She was sure they got younger every year. She’d never been that young. Had she?

“I’m Doctor Harris. How may I help you?”

“Captain Harrington would like you to come out to Little Creek. There’s a translation problem. Are you available?”

“Did he say what it was about?”

“No, Ma’am. He did say it was important. And we could drive you if you wanted.”

She laughed. “I’m glad you put it that way. I was hoping you weren’t here to arrest me.” When the Captain sent young SPs, he wanted Eleanor to know it was an optional assignment. If the Senior Chief was at the door, it was an emergency. She thought for a moment. It was June, school was out, and she had nothing pressing to do. Her niece and nephew were with their parents. She could see what her friend wanted. “Let me get my keys. I’ll drive myself. I know the way.”

Eleanor did know the way to Little Creek. She’d been there a few times to help the Captain with translation issues. She spoke and read many of the languages they worked with on their missions. Her friend on teams must really need something, or he wouldn’t have asked. He knew she hated to come out to Little Creek, but she did owe her friend a favor and she always paid her debts.  
0---------------------------0  
The conference room was cool; she was glad she had her cardigan. She sat in a chair at the conference table, composed, with her hands in her lap and briefcase on the floor beside her. The email had given her the bones of the problem and details on the parties involved. Thank goodness for her contact with the high security clearance and seemingly limitless information.

There were two women sitting across the table and talking quietly. Four sailors were working on the electronic equipment and sound system. 

Captain Harrington came in first. The sailors saluted, and he motioned for them to leave. Eleanor watched a group of men walk through the door behind him. Seven of them, all with the look of experienced operatives. Intelligence agents: no uniforms. She always recognized them, something in their eyes, the way they scanned their surroundings, the way they held themselves. Almost all of them were at least six feet tall and well built. Under their clothes, they’d have six-pack abs and defined muscles. 

She sighed. Yes, another one of those jobs. ‘National Security. Classified.’ Another translation gig with little reward. She really should start charging for her services. Walk in, hand someone a card with her fee schedule. Cash up front or walk out. These guys looked like they could afford it.

She judged that there were two leaders, walking ahead of the others, both talking to Captain Harrington. Both were fair haired, one gray and one blonde. They looked around the room for their translator and looked right over her. The two other women in the room, the CIA contacts, drew the men’s attention. Of course. Those women were taller, made up and hair styled, and better dressed in business clothing. Prettier. Eleanor was short and thin and had answered her door prepared to work in her garden, not her office. She was wearing a department store t-shirt, shorts, and a light cardigan. 

“I was surprised when you called,” Captain Harrington was saying. “How did you know Professor Harris had worked with us?”

“One of my…contacts,” the gray-haired man said. Most people wouldn’t have caught the hesitation, but she had. “We thought we’d have to meet him at Old Dominion. It’s better we’re here as it’s more secure.”

The blonde man was looking at the two CIA contacts, trying to guess if one of them was ‘the professor.’ He addressed the Captain, “We’d like to get started. Is the professor here? This is a little time-sensitive and it will probably take several days to decipher the document. A key is coming over that will help, but maybe he can get started.”

“Him? He?” Captain Harrington asked. “The professor—the translator?” They nodded and he continued. “The professor is a ‘she.’” The Captain looked at the two women from the CIA then turned another ninety degrees and pointed—at Eleanor. “You’re looking for Dr. Eleanor Harris.”

Everyone looked at her now. Eleanor did her best to keep her expression neutral; no one ever expected her to be the language expert. She stood up and greeted the men individually as they filed in and took seats.

The tall gray-haired man was “Kurt Austin, Special Projects Director at NUMA” with “My transportation specialist, Joe Zavala.” Joe was shorter, with dark hair and eyes and the look of a ‘player.’ Both were a few years older than her. She’d heard of NUMA and both Austin and Zavala. ‘Special Projects’ were things like finding Christopher Columbus, and ‘Director’ meant fixer.

The tall blonde was “Juan Cabrillo.” No title; expensively dressed, mid-40s. He was accompanied by “Max Hanley, Mark Murphy, and Eric Stone, my engineers.” An older man, probably in his 60s; a tall, lean man with dark hair about her age dressed in Goth t-shirt and cargo pants; and another man with light brown hair and glasses about her age wearing a buttoned-down shirt and khakis. Cabrillo, their leader, looked like an experienced field operative of some kind, but was now in the private sector. She’d bet the mortgage on it. Government employees didn't wear bespoke suit jackets. Two of the others looked like former military; the third, the Goth guy, wasn’t either type. So they were a private security company, or maybe mercenaries.

The final man was a surprise. She knew him! Would he recognize her? She hoped not. It was 21 years since they had met. “Lang Overholt.” Lang was tall and thin, white hair, brown eyes, and in good shape for his age. He must be over 70 now. Eleanor also knew he was with the CIA. Very highly placed, too.

“Nice to meet you, gentlemen,” Eleanor replied in her quiet voice. She sat back down. 

Juan Cabrillo turned to Lang Overholt and asked, “Non-disclosure agreement?”

Eleanor answered, “Already done.” She looked at the women from the CIA. They nodded in acknowledgment. “May I see the documents, please?” 

Kurt Austin looked at the small, thin woman in front of him. Brown hair in a bun, blue eyes behind glasses, no makeup, casual clothes. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties, but he suspected she would be in her thirties from the amount of gray in her hair. She did NOT look like a professor—maybe a Kindergarten teacher or a secretary. THIS was the linguistics expert Hiram Yeager’s computer—Max—had recommended? He set his briefcase on the table and pulled out a thick folder. It looked like there were forty or fifty photocopied pages inside.

He continued, “We believe this document is in several languages, all from central Asia, around Afghanistan. It’s information about an invention, probably a mechanical device, copied and translated from an older text.” He handed it to her, and she opened it. 

Eleanor fanned through the pages and scanned it quickly. “You’ve been able to read some of the words, but it’s written in code and you can’t figure it out. I assume you’ve run it through a translation algorithm.” She looked at Austin over her glasses and he nodded. “And the NSA was no help?” They had supercomputers and code experts, after all. It would get her out of working on this if they used the NSA instead.

Juan Cabrillo looked at Lang Overholt, then at her and said, “The NSA didn’t have the resources to deal with it right now. This is time-sensitive. Urgent.” 

The look between the two men told Eleanor there was more to this than ‘lack of resources right now time-sensitive.’ She’d heard chatter about a leak at the NSA. They must be worried someone would compromise the information.

Austin continued, “There’s a key that might help; it’s on the way, but it’s not here yet. It’ll be here soon. The guy bringing it said it helps with deciphering the word order and double meanings. Decoding. Anyone can translate some of the words, but without the key, it doesn’t make sense. Do you think you’ll be able to figure it out?” If she couldn’t help them, they were screwed. They’d need this finished within ten days to stop the rogue operator, and that didn’t leave them time to find another translator.

Eleanor had kept her face carefully neutral. Not this again! Just when you think you’re finished with something, it popped back up like a jack-in-the-box. A scary clown jack-in-the-box. With a slasher knife and a hockey mask. As much as she’d like to, she didn’t roll her eyes.

She continued to look at the folder. “Yes. I’m sure I can translate—decode—this. At least, I can tell you what it says,” she said, then looked up and around the room. “You said ‘mechanical device.’” Austin nodded. “I can tell you what it says, but I can’t tell you what it means. I’m not an engineer.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Max Hanley joked. 

Eleanor shot him that ‘disapproving teacher’ look over her glasses. Then she retorted in a sweet but flat voice, “Yes. Not everyone can be a linguistics expert.” Why was there always a class clown? She hated class clowns. There were several snickers around the table. Fortunately, one of those laughing was Hanley. She reached down into her briefcase, pulled out a pad and several of her favorite mechanical pencils and got to work. 

She’d written about five sentences, not paying attention to her audience, when Juan Cabrillo asked, “You’re not waiting for the key?” He’d been told the key MIGHT make the document understandable, but even that was no guarantee. What the hell was she doing?

Eleanor looked up. Juan saw a brief flash of something--annoyance?--before her neutral expression settled back into place. “No. I don’t need the key.” In a much more interested tone of voice, she asked, “Do you have the original document? The one this translated?” She’d love to actually see one, rather than the translated and encoded material she had worked with.

Juan wasn’t convinced. “We were told even having the key wasn’t a guarantee this could be translated so we could understand it.” He looked at her, but she continued her neutral expression. She just kept looking at him with her even stare until he admitted. “ No, we don’t have the original. We believe it was stolen and possibly destroyed.”

She sighed imperceptibly. “I’ve worked with something like this before. I don’t need the key.” She went back to her work, then looked up again. “You don’t need to stay. All you’d be doing is watching me work, and this will take a while.”

Some discussion washed over her as she wrote. All that fully registered was, “Murph, why don’t you stay here and see what you can make of it? Stoney? Come with us.” She was sure the discussion outside the room would be along the lines of ‘What the fuck is she playing at?’ They doubted her intelligence and her ability, that much was clear. 

When everyone else had gone, Eleanor looked up at Mark Murphy. “What did you do to deserve babysitting duty?” She almost smiled at him. Mark Murphy was pretty good looking. Dark hair and blue eyes.

“I’m the primary person that will turn this from words to a working model. Mechanical engineering background. Eric and I work closely on almost everything. Max and Joe are the other engineers and designers. I used to be a weapons designer,” he stopped at the look on her face. “No, this isn’t a weapon. We’re sure. More like a key to a lock. You don’t want to work with weapons?” The last thing they needed was some peacenik, anti-gun crusader who would sabotage their work. 

“Mr. Murphy, I have a concealed carry permit. No, not anti-gun.” She sighed. “I’m just tired of violence.” She looked away and went back to work.

“It’s Dr. Murphy, by the way.” Mark corrected her with a smile. He was proud of his Ph.D. At age 20. From MIT. Eleanor nodded—earning a doctorate was important and she knew that. Hmm… smart, too. With a nice smile. He had potential. Not that he’d ever be interested in her, of course.

As she finished pages, she handed them to Mark and kept going. He looked at the page she’d handed him: neat handwriting; annotations on the photocopy, cross-referenced to notes on her translation. And the translation, in both word for word and modern interpretation, made sense.

After the sixth page was handed over, Mark put down his pen and looked at Eleanor. “Okay, I’ve gotta ask. You’re just burning through this. We were told this probably couldn’t be decoded without the NSA’s supercomputers. They told us the key might work, but probably not. What the f—! Heck?”

She looked at him for a full minute, then said, “I’ve worked with this code before.”  
0----------------0  
As she worked, Eleanor’s mind wandered back in time. She’d been in the unpatrolled border region of Afghanistan and Pakistan and taken refuge in a cave. She had some time to wait for the Taliban convoy she was shadowing to move past, so she explored the cave. In an old wooden box in the very creepy back of the very creepy cave, there were several manuscripts. She couldn’t read them, so she stuck them in her backpack to study later. 

Over the next year, she’d found four other caches of documents. When she had needed a break from her intelligence activities, she’d snuck over the porous border to Pakistan, then went on to India. Spending a week in an Indian hotel room, she’d figured out a code key for interpreting the material. The manuscripts she had found were not like this document, but the same man had translated and encoded all of them. She had found translated historical records, Hindu religious texts, and a series of dark folk tales. Those folk tales were the basis for her second dissertation and what she'd used to make the key to decoding the documents.

Eleanor had left that part of her life behind. She didn’t miss it.  
0--------------------------------0  
“God only knows what bullshit she’s giving us,” Austin said. “I have no idea how Max came up with her.”

“Miss Mouse.” Max Hanley laughed. “Excuse me. Doctor Mouse.” 

“I can’t believe she speaks enough languages to do this. Arabic, maybe. Maybe another one or two.” Cabrillo spoke Arabic, but he hadn’t spoken to her in that language.

“When is the guy with the key supposed to get here?” Zavala had his feet up on the conference table in the other office where they were waiting. He was contemplating a nap, since there weren’t any women to chat up. The CIA agents had gone back to Langley.

Cabrillo looked at his watch. “Lang’s waiting for him at the airport. I think another hour.” He turned to look at Eric. “When the key gets here, I want you to check her translation. I don’t trust her.”

Eric nodded and went back in with Mark and Eleanor.  
0-------------------------0  
“Doctor Harris, this is impressive.” Eric Stone looked at the stack of pages she’d translated. She was easily a third of the way through, and it had been, what, two hours?

“Thank you, Mister Stone.”

“Why are we doing this?” Social conventions weren’t something Mark usually believed in using.

“Doing what, Murph?” Eric pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at Mark.

“Doctor Harris. Doctor Murphy. Mister Stone. I’m Mark. You’re Eric.”

“I’m sorry. Titles of address were something my mother insisted on using.” Eleanor had Embassy Manners. That’s where she’d grown up and that’s where she’d learned how to behave in 'Polite Society.' “You’re welcome to call me Eleanor. I usually work with students, and I require formality from them. I don’t even think about it.”

Mark looked up. “Do you like teaching?” He loved his job, but he knew now there should always be a Plan B. There had been some close calls; once, the Chairman had been missing in Antarctica and they thought he’d died. When this had happened, Mark had wondered what he’d do if the Corporation no longer existed. Maybe he could teach?

She thought about this for a moment. “I like working with students. I like the research and the writing.” She paused. How should she phrase this? “I don’t like the politics in the department. The publishing is okay, but getting tenure wasn’t what I thought it would be.”

That was the nice thing about the Corporation, Mark thought. No politics. They were a team, all working toward a common goal, supporting each other. He and Eric were teased, but he knew the rest of the crew always had his back. “What have you published?”

“I have a seven-book contract with the Defense Language Institute. Four are finished and in print; five is in final revisions, six is about half-finished, and seven is outlined.”

Mark was stunned. “Four books? What subject?”

“They’re a cultural analysis and vocabulary book for the Female Engagement Teams. Seven different languages, but mostly the same book. Regional differences in attitudes, customs, vocabulary, all about various women’s issues.”

“How long have you been working on these?” Eric was curious. He didn’t have a Ph.D., but he knew what was involved, and she’d mentioned tenure.

“I came back from working overseas a little over three years ago. I’d gotten the job at Old Dominion but hadn’t started yet. I had the idea, so I put together a proposal and started working on them. I shopped it around and the DLI picked it up.”

“You’ve written almost six books in three years?” What the fuck? Mark thought. That was impressive, even to him.

Eleanor shrugged and went back to work.  
0------------------0  
“Juan Cabrillo, meet Tom Leary.” Lang Overholt introduced the two men.

“I’m surprised you found someone willing to work with you on this,” the (eighth) tall man said. Thomas Leary was a representative of MI-6. MI-6 had custody of the document key, and the file was in his battered leather briefcase. He had a tony, public school British accent that fit his Saville Row suit and old school tie. “These documents are unusual and difficult to work with. I used to know someone…” He paused with the painful memory. “She encountered this translator several times. She was very good at deciphering his material.”

“So why can’t she work with us now?” Juan asked. It would make things easier.

Tom paused. His voice was full of grief and sadness. “She’s dead.” Tom still regretted that his friend had died alone. He should have been there with her. 

Not much I can say to that, Juan thought. “Well, I’ve got two of my engineers in there looking at the translation. Apparently this professor’s translated part of the first page. Without the key, it’s probably useless.” Juan was sure the first sentences he’d seen were bullshit and she hadn’t gotten any farther. The time delay frustrated him. If they couldn’t get this working, they would miss the window to prevent the damage and destruction the rogue oil company executive had planned and have to deal with the fallout instead. 

“Before we start this, there’s something I need to be very clear about.” Tom looked between the two men. “The CIA is not allowed access to this document. That’s not negotiable.”

“Why not?” Juan asked. Lang had apparently already heard this, since he didn’t look surprised.

“The person who made the key was very specific about the disposition of the work. There was a particular reason I’m not able to divulge, but the CIA has to stay out of this.” He looked at Lang. “Again, not negotiable. I would take personal and professional offense if you violated that trust.” Tom knew Cabrillo was a mercenary now and former CIA agent, but he also knew Overholt had been his mentor—and Overholt was still very much active in the agency.

The conference room where Eleanor, Mark, and Eric were working had a window into the hall. It was possible to see into the room—and the people in the room could see you—but no one was looking out. Tom looked into the room and his heart stopped. The ‘someone’ he knew, and knew to be dead, was sitting at the table working away.

“Cad é an fuck!” (What the fuck!) The tony accent was gone now and a full-on Irish one replaced it. “I don’t feckin’ believe it.” He continued to stare at Eleanor.

Juan looked at Tom’s white face. “What’s wrong?” Now he was sure they’d been duped.

“You don’t need this.” Tom patted the briefcase without looking at it. “She doesn’t need the key.”

Both men looked at the MI-6 agent with skepticism. This was getting ridiculous. “I have to ask,” Lang asked. “You came all this way for nothing? She doesn’t need the key?”

“No, she does not need the key.” He finally looked back at Lang and Juan. “Where’s the nearest pub with decent beer?”

It was ten o’clock in the morning.

“I’d like to have one of my people check her work against the key.” Juan looked back at Tom with an uncompromising stare.

“Sure.” Tom handed him the briefcase. “It’s unlocked. But Lang, remember, you aren’t allowed to look at it.”

Juan walked over and stuck his head in the door. “Eric? Could you come with me, please?”

When he walked out, Juan handed the case to Eric. “Go to a different office and see what you can make of it. Get the page she’s translated and check it.”

“Trust but verify, Cabrillo?” Tom laughed. “Waste of time. I’m sure her translation is spot on. Perfectly accurate. Now, the pub?”  
0-----------------------0  
Juan, Kurt, and Max were back in the conference room, watching Eleanor work with Mark, Eric, and Joe. Juan and Kurt both spoke Russian and started a conversation in that language. Max rolled his eyes and moved over to sit with the other engineers.

“How did you find her?” Juan asked.

“Hiram Yeager’s computer, Max, recommended her. I don’t know how she found out about Eleanor or knew that she could do this.” Kurt didn’t understand Yeager’s need to anthropomorphize his computer, but it worked.

“I think Mark has access to Max. I know he’s worked with her a couple of times.” Juan looked at Mark. “I think Max has lost her mind. Did she give you any background on Eleanor? Eric did a deep dive this morning and didn’t find anything.”

“Nothing. Max just gave her name--a name, E. Harris--and address. She seems competent. I wonder how she got the teaching job. I couldn’t find any qualifications for Eleanor Harris when I looked. I looked at the OD Website, and she’s the only professor without a CV. Or a picture.”

“Did you see that guy’s face?” Juan was puzzling over the MI-6 agent’s reaction. 

“White as a sheet. And how many beers did he put down? Four? And some whiskey? In twenty minutes?”

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on with this. I don’t like exposing the Corporation to unknown operators. How can she be an expert if she has no qualifications? So what if she’s an expert--allegedly--she’s got no skin in the game. Who are her contacts? A non-disclosure agreement doesn’t mean a thing and you know it.” Juan had worked with experts before and usually ended up saving them from the bad guys, or being too late to save them from the bad guys.

“I’ve had some good outcomes with experts,” Kurt laughed. “If you know what I mean.”

“I do. But not this time, eh?” Juan laughed with Kurt. “Doktor Mysh.” (Doctor Mouse.) The conversation continued along the same lines, both men relating some of their exploits. Kurt enjoyed the opportunity to dust off his Russian skills.

Eleanor kept working. Of course, she spoke Russian and understood every word. Her face whitened and her ears reddened. Doctor Mouse. She’d heard worse. And they were clear they wouldn't be interested in 'exploits' with her.

Mark looked at Eleanor. She was still working, but now she looked different. He wasn’t good at reading people, though, so he couldn't be sure. He looked at Juan and Kurt. They were talking in Russian. Maybe Eleanor spoke Russian.  
0----------------------0  
Juan looked through the window to the conference room. She was still working on the translation; he’d give her that. And Eric had checked her work—it was accurate. It was after six and the men were breaking for dinner. Juan was wondering if he should ask Eleanor to join them.

“Eric, I need you in the office for a minute.” Juan gestured at his helmsman. Eric got up and walked out. When he reached the hall, Juan asked, “How far along are you on this?”

“Eleanor is almost three-fourths of the way through the manuscript.”

**“HOW** far?” He and Kurt had expected her to be barely through the first few pages.

“Yeah. She’s almost done.”

“Well, let’s go to dinner, then. Tell Murph." Then he sighed, a sound like resignation for something he didn't want. "I suppose we should ask Eleanor.” 

Eric looked at the Chairman. He didn’t sound very happy about having Eleanor go to dinner with them. Why wouldn’t they want Eleanor to join them? And Max had called her Doctor Mouse earlier. That seemed…disrespectful. Juan wasn’t usually like that. She was working on this, too, just like they were. She'd worked on this for hours with just a couple of breaks--more than anyone else in their group. He didn’t understand some of these social things. Oh, well. He’d ask Max to explain it later.

“Murph, we’re going for dinner. Juan wants you there.” He looked at Eleanor. “He said to ask you, too, Eleanor.”

She looked up and then back at her paper. Dinner with Doctor Mouse? Eleanor didn’t think so. “Thank you for asking, but I have other plans later. I’ll just finish up this page. You go ahead.” 

Mark put his papers in his backpack, got up to leave, and walked out with Eric. “See you tomorrow, Eleanor?”

“Yes. Of course.” Mark noticed her voice was small and sounded funny.

When they got to the parking lot entrance, Mark told Eric to go on. “I’m going to wait for Eleanor.” He didn’t exactly know why, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

It took Eleanor about five minutes to finish the page, and she gathered her pencils and pads, along with the rest of the document, into her briefcase and headed for her car. 

“Hey, Eleanor!” Mark called as she walked down the hall. “We’re going for dinner. Do you want to come? Really?”

Eleanor looked at Mark and kept walking. He must not speak Russian. If he did, he must be going against his boss’s wishes. Clearly, Juan and Kurt didn’t want her there. She took a deep breath. “No, I don’t think so. I have other plans.”

Mark fell in with her. “Did you take your copy? Where are you going? Will it be safe enough with you?” He realized he sounded like he was ten. Or desperate. Thank god she didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes, I have it. It will be safe. I’ll lock it up at home.”

“I’ll probably work on this with Eric on this after dinner. If we have a question, how can we get in touch with you?”

“Could I text you my address? I don’t think we want this on the airwaves." She shrugged. "You could come over.”

They were at her car. Her practical, unassuming used car. “Could you give me a ride to the Club? I don’t know where it is.” Mark knew the others had gone ahead as their two cars were gone. She nodded 'yes.'

Eleanor drove slowly through the Fort Storey campus. She looked straight ahead and didn’t say anything.

“What are you doing this evening? What other plans did you have?”

“I’m going to work on my book.”

She stopped at the light.

“You could do that after dinner.”

“Mark, I don’t think—” She chanced a quick glance. Eleanor didn’t know how to say this. “Look, your boss doesn’t want me there.” Should she tell him what she’d heard? No, a little lie would be best. “I don’t think he trusts me.”

Mark knew that was true. Stoney told him about the check Juan had him do with her translation. Stoney said he was amazed at how fast she was going—he’d worked for an hour and barely had half a page, and it wasn’t as good as what Eleanor had done in just a few minutes. Her work had…elegance…and seemed faithful to the original document’s style.

“Can I ask you something, Eleanor?”

“Of course.”

“You said you’d worked with something like this before. How are you able to do this?”

“No one’s asked me that.” She gave a small smile. “I have a gift with languages. I found some of these documents myself and figured out how to read them.”

He thought for a minute. This could only mean one thing. “YOU wrote the key!” Things made sense for Mark now. “Wait. The MI-6 guy said you were dead.” 

“Well…” She was deciding how much to tell him. “I faked my own death. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I started my life over here.”

“You know we did a background check on you. Is that why we can’t find anything?” Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, but she had to know they’d check her out.

“You can’t find anything because I changed my name,” she said softly.

“SMH.” Mark used the meme. “Of course you did.”

“The name I use today is the name on my birth certificate and the name I used outside my family. I worked under a different name.” She took a deep breath. “Growing up, my mother insisted on hyphenating our last name. I don’t use it now. I don’t use her name. I use my father’s family name. Harris. Try looking for Eleanor Simmons. My writing is under a pseudonym. Just don’t tell anyone else, please.”

They pulled up to the Officer’s Club. Mark made a quick decision. “Look, Eleanor. Could we just go to your house and work on this? I’m not excited about going to dinner with these guys.” He’d been interested in Eleanor all day, and this could be his chance. 

“Are you sure?” She wouldn’t mind the company, honestly, and she was ahead of where she should be with her book. She was interested in Mark and this could be an opportunity to connect. “Dinner with the boss sounded like a command performance.”

“I’ll tell him we’re working. That’s what I told Eric we’d be doing. And we will be. Working.” He texted Eric [Going to Eleanor’s to finish. Don’t come unless I call you.]

They rode in silence through the front gate. When he put away his phone, she asked quietly, “How old were you?”

“How old was I what?”

“You’re smart. You figure it out.”

SMART. Click. “I was 20. Started MIT at fifteen. Mechanical engineering. Why?”

“I was 20. Oxford. Arabic linguistics in the Oriental Studies program. Queen’s College.”

“Queens?”

“Like houses at Hogwarts.” Surely he’d know Harry Potter. “I’m a Ravenclaw, by the way.”

Mark was impressed. Pop culture! Was she a geek, too? “Me, too! No wonder I can talk to you. You’re ‘me smart.’” He had a big smile.

“‘Me smart?’ Ego much?” She chuckled.

“There aren’t that many of us.” Not boasting, just true.

“There aren’t. There were only ten of us at Oxford when I was there. The others were maths or music. Hyperpolyglots are a fraction of one percent of the population.”

“This explains a lot.” Mark was smiling.

Eleanor gave him a quick ‘What?’ glance.

“Why I can talk to you.” And why I’m attracted to you, he thought. “Honestly, girls intimidate me. I don’t know how to…connect. Except online, and that’s not always a good thing.”

Eleanor wasn’t smiling when she looked at him. “You’re honestly the first man I’ve ever talked to my whole life where I didn’t have to pretend to be stupid.”

Mark thought about that for a moment. “Why would you pretend?”

“This is still a paternalistic society. It’s okay for men to be smart. It’s not okay for a woman to be smarter than almost all men.”

“Ah. Yes.” Mark could understand that. “But you’ve kept up with us all day. You said you weren’t an engineer.”

“Just because I’m not an engineer doesn’t mean I don’t understand some of the principles. It’s just not an interest of mine. I could do the maths, I just don’t like the maths.”

They pulled up to Eleanor’s house. “I’m not sure I’ve got much to eat in the house. I need to eat. What would you like?”

“Could we order a pizza? Our chef makes pizza, but it’s not the same as delivery pizza.” College students lived on pizza. Old habits, and all.

“Sure.” She laughed. “Your chef? You have a chef on the ship?”

“Yeah. The Chairman is kind of a food snob. Expensive wine, too.” 

How did she know we have a ship?

“You love your job, don’t you?” 

“I do.” He sighed. “I worked for a defense contractor after college. The people I worked with were assholes, mostly. Just older jocks who liked to make fun of the nerdy kid. It was all about what I could do for them, what the freaky kid could do.”

“Tell me about it. The first year, University was horrible. No one wanted anything to do with a teenager. And then the job at Old Dominion! Not pretty. I was really surprised I got tenure so early. I didn't expect it at all. The chairman of the department had told the other professors about my writing as the books came out. I thought it was so cool. Tenure! Early! Then, after the faculty meeting, this other assistant professor in the department cornered me in the elevator. He got right in my face and asked me, point-blank, ‘Who are you fucking?’ It’s not that I’m qualified. I must be sleeping with someone. Me. Obviously.” No man had ever shown an interest in her that way. Except as a joke. Or by force--because the nerdy girl must be 'desperate for it' and his sense of entitlement meant he was 'just the one to give it to her.'  
0-----------------------0  
“Eleanor.” Mark looked at her. She was asleep again. Sitting at the dining room table, she was sound asleep. She looked sweet and vulnerable, and he smiled. “Eleanor.” He rubbed her arm.

She lifted her head and looked at him. “I fell asleep again.” His hand was still on her arm, and it didn’t bother her. She was tired, yes, from working on her book into the wee hours for the last few weeks, but usually having men touching her wasn’t tolerable. “Look, Mark. I’m afraid I’m going to fall out of the chair. Why don’t I go to bed, and you come sit in the bedroom? Wake me up if you have a question?”

He thought about it. Was that something he should do? “Well, I guess.” Was this a proposition or a setup? He was reluctant to find out.

“Look. I’m not offering anything more than working on this. I know Cabrillo wants it finished yesterday,” She grinned at him. “You’re not some kind of sex maniac are you?”

“Not unless you want me to be.” He grinned back at her.

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll go get ready and get in bed and call you when I’m all covered up.”  
0--------------------------0  


She was curled up against him and it was nice. Mark didn't get many dates, much less many cuddles. Her head was on his chest and her hand on his thigh. That was kind of sexy.

Finally, it was two o’clock and Mark couldn’t see the monitor anymore. They were two pages away from finishing the translation and he had started on an engineering diagram from the specifications in the document. He closed up his laptop and set it on the floor. It was kind of cold in the bedroom, so he crawled under the covers and snuggled up next to Eleanor. Yeah. Nice. This was good.  
0-------------------------0  
Eleanor usually woke up at six, whether school was in session or not. This morning was no different. It was six. What was different was there was a man in her bed. For the first time, ever, she woke up with a man in her bed. Mark Murphy. He was spooned around her, and his hand was cupping her breast. She waited for the reaction, the feeling of wrongness creeping into her mind. But it never came. Wow.

She went back to sleep. This was nice. 

When she woke up again after another hour, Mark was back on his side of the bed, so she got up, showered, and dressed. She made a pot of coffee and poured him a cup.

“Mark.” She touched his shoulder “Hey. Wake up.”

“What time is it?” She could hardly hear him mumbling into the pillow.

“It’s almost eight. We should go in and finish this. There’s coffee on the dresser. I hope you like it black. And I laid out some things for you in the bathroom.”

After a shower and a change of clothes—she’d correctly guessed his sizes and found some things her brother had never worn—he headed down to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and took in the view. Eleanor was sitting at the table, with a cup of coffee, reading the newspaper. She smiled at him, just a simple smile. In that moment, something fell into place and he knew he wanted Eleanor in his life.

“Good morning.” Mark smiled at her. He was happy she was still smiling at him.

“Good morning. I thought we’d hit the drive-thru somewhere on the way back to Little Creek. I ran out of cereal yesterday.”

“And I’m guessing it wasn’t Froot Loops.”

“You actually eat those? That’s just gross.” She stood and picked up her briefcase and car keys.  
0--------------------------0  


When they walked into the conference room, Tom Leary was waiting for them. “Eleanor.” He was sitting with his arms crossed, looking frightening. Mark was taken aback, but Eleanor just went in and sat down next to him. She gestured to Mark to join her, and then she took Mark’s hand and held it. She was looking to Mark for moral support.

“I made too many enemies. You know that.” Tom nodded. “I was done. I was tired of the violence.” She whispered, “I got angry—so angry I was taking unnecessary risks. Every day it was worse.” She was known for a calm, detached attitude in her missions. “Tommy, I started hunting. I went looking for them. Finally, I let myself be taken by human traffickers.” The end of that mission had been bloody and violent and that’s when she knew she had to be done with that part of her life.

The look on Mark’s face was horrified astonishment. He just gaped. 

“Good God, Ellie!” Tommy remembered Eleanor as one of the most even-tempered people he’d ever met. She never got mad and she never took unnecessary chances. She balanced risk versus reward in a cold, calculated way, whether it was how to kill her target or what to order for dinner. He’d always admired her detachment. It’s what made her such an effective operator. To hear she’d done something so totally out of character floored him. “You could have been,” he paused and gestured broadly, “killed, raped, trafficked.” That scared him more than the method she’d used to disappear—an explosion in an IED factory. She was his friend as well as occasional field partner and he loved her like a sister. 

She nodded. “I was very lucky. I’m lucky I survived. If I’d stayed in country much longer, my luck would have run out, I know.”

“We mourned you. Anna was devasted. You couldn’t have let me in on the plan?”

“Not if I wanted to really sell it. I knew you watched the newspaper where I ran the notice, and it was on _Al Jazeera._ I knew you’d tell Adam and he’d call Mother.” Logical. That’s exactly what he’d done. He’d gone to see her oldest brother to tell him in person Eleanor was dead. And Adam had called their mother, Elaine. 

“Tommy, Anna is the best friend I’ve ever had. It was a hard decision to cut off your family, but I needed to keep your wife and children safe. I felt it was worth the sacrifice.”

Mark finally found his voice. “Human traffickers? You let yourself be taken by human traffickers?” He remembered what had happened to one of his colleagues when he’d gone undercover with human traffickers. Eddie Seng had almost died.

She gripped his hand tightly. “I was working…to eliminate human trafficking. This group wasn’t interested in me as a sexual object. They were trafficking children. When I took down the leaders, I scared the children I was trying to protect. I knew then I had to stop. Come back. So I faked my death. I blew up an IED factory.”

“My god, Eleanor!” He just grabbed her and hugged her close. Lucky was an understatement.

Tom couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Eleanor didn’t like to be touched. She wouldn’t let Tom hug her—never had, in all the years he’d known her—and here this…boy…was hugging her like he was afraid to let her go.

Mark let her go but kept an arm around her. “Where was this?” He finally registered what this meant. She’d been an operator? Holy shit! “Who’s Adam?”

Eleanor took a breath. “It was Afghanistan. I worked all over that area. Central Asia. And Adam is my brother. The oldest of the three, Adam, Brock, and Charlie. I’m staying with Charlie’s kids in Charlie’s house.”

Tom looked at Mark and held out his hand. “Who are you?”

“Mark Murphy. Dr. Mark Murphy. I’m on Cabrillo’s crew. I’m doing the engineering drawing with Max, Eric, and Joe.”

“Your boss was looking for you last night.” Tom knew Cabrillo had been a little put out Mark hadn’t been at dinner with them.”

Mark looked at Eleanor. “We were working on this at Eleanor’s. Finished all but the last two pages.” He looked at Tom. “How do you two know each other?” 

Tom was stunned. He’d been with her in her house? He’d better be good enough for her. And good to her. He was thrilled she’d finally met someone she could be with, physically and mentally. “We were at University together. She was in my first class on my first day, and we did a lot of our program together.”

“And Anna, Tommy’s wife, was my college roommate. I introduced them.”

“I thought I was smart, but then I met Eleanor. I should mention that when we first met, she was fifteen.” Tom shook his head. “She lived with me and Anna after we got married. My youngest daughter is named Eleanor.”

Tom stood. “How many are you up to now?” 

She smiled. “Thirty-four.”

“How many what?” Mark asked.

“Languages,” Tommy answered. “Eleanor now speaks thirty-four languages.” 

“What the fuck! Are you serious?” She’d said she had a gift for languages, but thirty-four?

“Yeah. Impresses the hell out of me, too.” He looked at Eleanor again. “You don’t need me, so I’m going home. CJ has a recital coming up and I don’t want to miss it.” He patted Eleanor on the shoulder before she could flinch away. 

“You can’t tell anyone.” She reprimanded Tom sternly, then tempered her reaction. “Please?”

“I’m letting Anna and Gran in on your secret. Who are they going to tell?” he replied. “Gran was quite upset when we told her you’d passed.” 

Eleanor looked at Mark. “I learned Irish by visiting Tommy’s family at holidays and staying with his grandmother.” She turned back to Tommy. “No one else, Tommy. Now get out of here. Tell Anna to call me after the recital.” 

Tommy stood and gathered his briefcase. Eric had done the half a page, confirmed Eleanor’s translation, and put the key back in the folder, so he had everything he’d come over with. “Mark, would you walk me out? Eleanor, you should finish this today, right?” She nodded. 

As she looked at them, she saw two dark-haired, blue-eyed Irish men. Maybe she had a type. No, Tommy was a friend—a brother. Mark, he was different. Her feelings for him weren’t like those she had for Tommy. Not at all. She remembered Mark’s hand on her breast this morning. No, not brotherly feelings at all.

In the hall, Tom turned to Mark. “Do you like Eleanor?”

“You mean ‘like’ like a friend?”

“No, as a girlfriend.”

“I could. Are you warning me off?” Mark was sure he knew what was coming.

“Quite the opposite. Eleanor is like my little sister. Or my wife’s little sister. And my wife says what Eleanor needs more than anything else is to get shagged" he saw Mark's confused look and continued, "you Yanks would say get laid--on a regular basis.” He watched Mark flush. “Anna’s right, of course, if a bit…blunt.” Tom laughed, then became serious. “Eleanor likes you. I’m sure of it." He nodded 'yes' at Mark's skeptical expression. "If you have any interest in her, you should pursue it. Single-mindedly go after her. She’s worth it.” Tom held out his hand and Mark shook it. “Just be good to her. She hasn’t had an easy life and she deserves so much more.” Tom saluted him and left.

Not at all what Mark had expected.

Juan walked in the door, saying goodbye to Tom as he left. Eric was parking the car, so Juan had a few minutes alone with Mark. “Where the hell were you last night?”

“I went to Eleanor’s house and we worked on the translation.”

“Is that what they call it now?”

Mark had no idea what Juan was talking about. “What?” 

“Jesus, Murph.” Juan ran a hand down his face. Mark was a nerd, but seriously! “Did you sleep with her? You know, sex?”

Mark flushed an unflattering shade of red. Juan’s implication seemed…cheap and sordid, and being with Eleanor had been anything but that. He looked hard at Juan, “We got all of it done but the last two pages.”

Juan rolled his eyes. Murph had neither confirmed nor denied they’d slept together, so they probably had, but apparently they’d done some work, too. Eric said they were at three-fourths at dinner. “Well, keep it in your pants until we finish this.” Eric walked in and called to Mark. Juan turned to the conference room.

When Juan came in, he made a beeline for Eleanor. “Doctor Harris?” His voice was…stern? Angry? “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to leave Mark alone. He’s got work to do, and he doesn’t need the distraction.”

Eleanor took a deep breath. She knew he didn't like her, but that was just rude. She put her pencil back in her briefcase and stacked her completed papers neatly on the table. She gave him the ‘teacher look’ that usually froze the recipient. “Excuse me?” That tone usually worked, too. She picked up her coffee and her briefcase.

“I have no idea who you are. Apparently you can read this,” he patted the manuscript and her translation, “and you must have some qualifications to be a professor, but I don’t know you and I don’t trust you.”

Eleanor had told Mark about faking her death, and that an IED factory was involved. What she hadn’t told him was that she’d called in an airstrike on her own position. She’d been too close to the blast zone and now had nerve damage. She was upset with Juan’s accusations and started shaking, and her coffee seemed to jump from her nerveless fingers. It hit the table and splashed them both, mostly Juan’s khaki pants.

A mix of embarrassment and anger flushed her face. She was humiliated and she’d done it to herself. Her voice changed to sympathy. “Oh, god! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” It wasn't hot, but she needed to ask. She was truly contrite, but Juan wasn’t having it.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Juan rarely raised his voice, and it surprised Mark and Eric as they walked in the room.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. Please send me your cleaning bill.” She put a final piece of paper on the table and, head down, walked quickly to the door. Mark and Eric parted, and Mark followed her out. Eleanor caught the first sailor she saw and told him about the spill. 

“Hey, Eleanor, slow down.” Mark wanted to talk to her before she left. He ended up following her to her car again. 

Eleanor tried to unlock the car with her fob. After the third time she dropped it, Mark picked it up and hit the button.

“Are you okay?” He’d seen her hand shaking as she tried to work the key. A tear dripped down her face.

“I didn’t do that on purpose.” She was still so embarrassed.

He pulled her close. “I know. I’m sure he does, too.” He hugged her, then pulled back. “When this whole thing is over, would you like to go out with me?”

She wiped her eyes and smiled. “Yes. Yes, I would. You didn’t realize it, but when I first woke up this morning, you had your hand on my—”

“Oh, god! I’m sorry!” Shit! Way to blow it, Murph, he told himself. That was enough to get him arrested.

“You were spooned behind me,” she continued, still smiling. He looked horrified. “I liked it. I like you.” She went up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Go carefully. And don’t think about me until you’re finished, okay?” He looked puzzled, like he didn’t understand. “Concentrate on your mission. When you finish, then think about me.”

He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Nice. “Thank you for your help with this. You’re amazing.”  
0---------------------0  
  
It was all over but the report writing. Juan looked at the pile of papers on his desk. The paper Eleanor had laid on the table after dropping her coffee was her bill. Sixteen hours at $275 per hour. $4400, and she’d added sales tax and a ten percent rush fee. $5192. Ordinarily, a bill like this would have drawn a chuckle and he would cheerfully have written a check. Compared to some of their expenses, this was a pittance. Some strange impulse made him cross out her figure and write ‘$25, less $20 dry cleaning.’ He folded up the invoice and stuck it in an envelope with a five-dollar bill.  
0-------------------0  
  
Two weeks later, Eleanor was back in her garden. She’d been working on the plantings for three years now, and she thought it looked nice. It had been a tangle of weeds at first, but she’d enjoyed taming it and turning it into something beautiful. There was peace and satisfaction in the garden, things that had been in short supply for most of her life. She’d missed the green all those years while she was in the desert.  
  
Mark was amazed at her garden. It was lush and green and beautiful. Without knowing she liked to garden, he could have predicted it would look like this.  
  
She was listening to a book on tape when someone called her name. “Eleanor.” She paused the book and turned around. Eleanor dropped her trowel, stood up carefully, and took off for Mark at a dead run. He caught her and kissed her thoroughly.  
  
A few minutes later, they paused for breath. “Are your niece and nephew home?”  
  
“No. They’re still in Japan.” Their look was intense.  
  
“Upstairs?” he asked. Her bedroom. She nodded, 'yes,' then took his hand and pulled him into the house.  
0--------------------0  
They left a trail of clothes on their way to her bedroom. Standing at the foot of the bed, they were down to their underwear, kissing, hands roaming. Suddenly, she was shy. Mark felt her close up emotionally. She’d been into this, he’d thought, and now she wasn’t.  
  
“Mark, I don’t—”  
  
Oh, shit. He pulled away. “You don’t want to?” Just what he needed. Being accused of rape. He pulled back like a shot.  
  
She took his hand. “I want to. I very much want to.” Deep breath. “I don’t know how.”  
  
He was astonished. “You’ve never…”  
  
She shook her head. “Not really. I was too young in high school and college. There was a guy during training, but he was just cheating on his girlfriend. Later, I was a woman in fundamentalist Muslim countries. Muslim women don’t date like western women date. I always pretended to have a husband—with the documents to prove it—or I’d have a boy acting as my ‘son.’ Male 'supervision.' Looking for my ‘husband.’ I always wore hijab, whatever the most conservative local style was. I’d start screaming about zina—adultery—and they would usually leave me alone. Adultery is a big deal in Islam. There were some close calls, though. Only once…”  
  
She sat on the bed and he sat with her. “Once, a guy hit me so hard he knocked me out. I woke up in a house, alone, naked under my burka. There was blood, but it didn’t feel like…I’d been raped. My clothes were ripped, like they’d been torn off. No STDs when I was tested. I just don’t know what happened.”  
  
Eleanor had both his hands in hers now and was turned to look at him. “I want you SO much. Just be patient with me? Please?” Her voice held her uncertainty.  
  
He bent his head and kissed her, slowly and deeply. “You’ll be patient with me, too? I’ve only done this once and it wasn’t…what she expected.” She’d been dismissive and snide afterward.  
  
“She obviously wasn’t smart enough for you.” Eleanor cupped his cheek and pulled him down for another kiss.  
  
Mark had Googled sex. He’d talked to Eric about Jannike Dahl—he knew Eric had spent the weekend with her in Norway after they stopped the plague. Logically, he knew what to do, now he just had to do it perfectly for Eleanor. No pressure.  
0--------------------0  
“Wow.” Her body was still pulsing from the orgasm he'd given her. Damn. He knew what to do with those hands!  
  
The smile on her face! He smiled, knowing he’d given her that look. Now it was his turn, so he reached for—  
  
The condom that wasn’t there. It was like someone threw cold water on him.  
  
Eleanor watched him turn off and sit up. “Mark? What’s wrong?” Had she done something wrong? She sat up, too, the smile gone from her face.  
  
“Els, are you on the pill?”  
  
Oh, shit. “No. And I don’t have any condoms.”  
  
“Fuck. I don’t, either.” The frustration in his voice was intense.  
  
She knew. She was sure. Mark was her One. And she knew her own body. She’d like to take the risk. Would he take the risk with her? “Mark, it’s not the right time of the month when I could get pregnant. I trust you.” She kissed him. “And I don’t want to wait.”  
  
He didn’t want to wait, either. But he had to ask, “Are you sure, Els?” This was huge, for both of them.  
  
“I’ve never been more sure of anything ever. This feels right.” She kissed him deeply and ran her hands over his chest.  
  
When they were both ready again, Mark moved between her legs and pushed inside her. He heard her gasp, but all he could do was feel how good it was to be where he was. This felt so right. He was close. Hopefully, she was, too. “Touch yourself, Els. Come with me.”  
  
Eleanor wrapped her legs around his and snuck her hand between them. It didn’t take long and she was coming again. Mark felt her flutters, gave one last thrust, and came with her.  
  
When he could think again, he realized Eleanor was crying. Aw, shit. Had he disappointed her, too? He touched her face, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “Hey, what’s wrong?”  
  
“I didn’t know, Mark. I didn't realize..." She saw his confusion. "I didn't know it could be like that.” She was still crying.  
  
“You’re happy but you’re crying?” He did not understand women.  
  
“It was so profound. It was amazing. You're amazing.” She kissed him. “I’m so glad it was you.” Now, she was smiling again. She couldn’t hold it in any longer and her expression turned serious. “Mark, I love you.”  
  
He knew. It was right. “I love you, too.”  
0----------------------------0 

“This is not what I thought we’d be doing.” Mark and Eleanor were sitting at the dining table, eating Chinese takeout. 

“Eating takeout?”

“No. I thought we’d sit and talk, maybe go out for dinner, then I’d go back to the hotel and try to get up enough courage to ask you out again.” He moved over to kiss her. “I did not think we’d end up in bed. So soon.”

“It just feels right, Mark. I never dreamed it could be like this.” She kissed him back.

He knew. Now it was his turn to be solemn. “Els, will you marry me?” He was serious.

She was crying again, and she threw her arms around him. She was so happy! “Yes!” And she kissed him, all over his face. His handsome face. There was something, though, and she pushed away a little. “But not until your parents meet me. You said you have family and you get along.” Not like her family. What if his parents didn't like her? She wouldn’t come between Mark and his family. “Skype?”

“Yeah. They Skype.” He reached for his laptop.

“Um, maybe we should get dressed first?” They were wearing undies and a t-shirt and it was obvious they’d been in bed.

0--------------------------0

Skype call over and relationship approved, they were back in Eleanor’s bed. “Mark, how long do we have?” She ran her foot down his leg, enjoying the feel of his body against hers.

He didn’t like telling her this. “I’ve got four more days before I go back to work.”

She raised up to look at him. “You have to keep your job, Mark. You love it and it makes you happy.”

“What did you just say?” He was wondering how he could leave the Corporation, and assumed she'd want him to find another job.

“You need to keep your job. You love it. I want you to be happy.”

“You know I won’t be home very much.” That wasn't the best way to start a marriage. It was the reason very few of the Corporation's employees were married.

“I know. Mark, I know better than anyone what you do. It’s important work and it’s important to you. I don’t want you to take a job you don’t love. I had one for years. I hated it. It eats at you, tears you up inside. I won’t be happy if you aren’t happy.” She kissed him. “We’ll make it work.”

“I don’t like leaving you alone so much.”

“I won’t be alone. You’re in here.” She held her hand over her heart.

0---------------------0

“Els, we’ll tell him we’re married and then we’ll ask him. I’m sure he’ll understand and say yes. It’s not like you don’t know about us.”

“I hope you’re right, Mark.” Eleanor was pretty sure he wouldn't say yes.

“You know I love you.” He smiled. He did love Eleanor.

“Not as much as I love you.” She smiled back. It was part of their routine.

“I’ll go to his quarters, and then we’ll reconnect.” Mark signed off and picked up his laptop. He walked up one flight of stairs and down the hall. He knew Juan was in his cabin, so he knocked.

“Come.” Juan was sitting at his desk, working on a report of their latest mission for Overholt.

Mark went in. “Chairman, Eleanor and I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes?”

What now? What did Murph see in that woman? She was better than the other women he’d ‘dated’ in the past, yes, but she was rude and certainly nothing to look at. Yes, she was smart, he’d give her that, but, seriously? He sighed. “Sure. Come on in.”

Mark put his laptop on the desk near Juan’s computer and connected again with Eleanor. “Eleanor, we’re with the Chairman.”

“What did you need to talk to me about?” Juan sat back in his chair.

“We were wondering if it would be possible for me to come visit Mark on the _Oregon._ We wanted you to know—”

“Hell, no.” Juan leaned forward. “Eleanor? No fucking way. Murph, you should know better than this. What the hell were you thinking?” He looked over at the computer and saw Eleanor. What was that look on her face?

“I’m sorry. Thank you for your time.” Her voice was strained and broke on the last two words. Eleanor disconnected.

Juan heard Murph sigh, then a soft, ‘shit.’

“What the hell, Murph?” he asked. "How could you even ask me that? Eleanor? Seriously?"

Mark sighed again and said, “It’s not important now. Excuse me, but I need to go talk to Eleanor.” He had his computer and was out the door before Juan could say anything else. “I just don’t know what’s up with those two,” he said to the closed door.

When he was back in his cabin, Mark tried reconnecting with Eleanor. He tried for an hour with no answer. Finally, she sent an email: [I just need to process this. I’ll call later.]

0---------------------------0

“How’s Eleanor?” Eric was at the helm when Mark reported to his weapons station. He knew Mark was dating her, and he usually talked to her before he came on shift. He looked up at his friend and was surprised.

Mark looked grim. “I can’t get her to talk to me. She must be devastated.” The look he'd seen on her face was so sad.

“Why? What happened?” Had they had a fight?

Mark sighed and didn’t look up. “It’s nothing. We’ll work it out.” Even Eric didn’t know they were married. He’d go find Doc Huxley later and talk to her. Maybe there was something they could do.

After three days of no contact with Eleanor, Mark was starting to get worried. They usually talked several times a day if he wasn’t working. He called her niece, and Laura emailed him later to tell him she’d seen Eleanor, and it looked like she’d been crying the entire three days. He could understand that. There were only three things Eleanor wanted, he knew that. She wanted him, she wanted a home, and she wanted a family. She’d never had her own home. Mark couldn’t believe how she’d never lived in a place that was hers except for the apartment she’d rented for a few months when she first came back to the States, and now their apartment. She gave up her dream of a home of her own for him. Until he was finished and cashed out of the Corporation, she’d have to wait.

And now she was giving up her dream of a family. Her own child. He knew she wanted more than one child, but they weren’t even able to make one at this point. With everything she’d given up, he didn’t doubt for one minute that she loved him. How had he gotten this lucky?  
0-------------------0  


Mark stuck his head around the sick bay door, knocking lightly. “Doc, do you have a minute?”

“Sure, Murph, come in.” She looked a little puzzled when he closed the door behind him. “What did you need?”

“I need to know about AI, IVF. That stuff. I researched it online, but I need to know if there is something we can do on the ship…” He turned red. “I can’t get off the boat. How could I get my…swimmers…to Virginia?”

Julia just gaped. “Murph, why are you asking this? I’d heard you had a girlfriend, but aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself here?”

Mark decided he’d have to tell Julia about Eleanor. She was someone he could trust. “Julia, Eleanor isn’t my girlfriend. She’s my wife. We want to have a baby.”

Julia couldn’t have been more surprised. “Your what?” She couldn’t process what he said.

“Eleanor is my wife. We got married about five months ago. We’ve been trying to get pregnant, but I can’t seem to get off the ship at the right time. If you know what I mean.”

“Married? You got married?” She was still trying to process that Mark was married.

“Yes, Julia, we got married.” Mark stood up and moved to leave. Was the idea of him having a wife that much of a joke? She'd once called him and Eric 'the Hardly Boys.' “I’m sorry I bothered you, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone. No one else on the ship knows.”

He had the door open and was halfway through when Julia came to her senses. She'd been rude and unprofessional. “Mark, come back. Please.” She stood up and grabbed his arm before he could go any further. “You just surprised me.” She sat back down. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

“I met Eleanor when she translated that funky manuscript. Something she did or said rubbed the Chairman the wrong way, and he just can’t stand her.” Julia nodded and Mark continued. “I fell for her. Totally. And the feeling is mutual. I can’t believe how much she loves me.”

“Okay. Why do you say that?” Mark was in love? In a serious relationship? Married? No one knew this?

“She gave up everything she ever wanted to be with me.” Mark could see from her expression he needed to explain. “Eleanor’s parents were with the State Department. She was an intelligence agent. She’s lived in, like, thirty countries in her life. She’s never lived in a home that was hers. She had an apartment for a while when she came back to the States, and we have one now, but she’s always wanted her own home.”

“You two can buy a house, you know.”

“Yeah.” Mark ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. We will, if I can ever get enough leave to go look for one with her. We've been doing back-to-back jobs. She doesn’t want to house hunt herself. She wants me to choose with her. I understand that. And we haven’t had time to decide where we want to live. She’s in Virginia now. Do I want to go back to Texas? Do I want to get a job somewhere else? If her grandma was still alive, she’d consider Nebraska, but not now. We may not make this decision until I’m done.”

“You aren’t thinking…”

Mark laughed. “No. Eleanor told me if I quit my job she’d kick my ass. She could, too.” Julia gave him a funny look. “She told me that I love my job—I do—so I should keep doing it. She won’t be happy unless I’m happy. She’s willing to sacrifice what she wants so I can stay with the Corporation. But there’s something else.”

Julia gave him a ‘go on’ look and gestured with her hands.

“We want to have a baby.” Mark looked happy about it.

She nodded. Reasonable. Questionable, but reasonable.

“The only other thing Eleanor’s ever wanted, besides a home, is a family to go in it. Before we met, she didn’t think it would ever happen.”

“But she can’t get pregnant. You can’t have been trying very long. What, a month or so?”

“No. We met about six months ago. We got together about a week after we finished that job, and we just knew. I took a week off. We slept together pretty early in the relationship and we’ve never used birth control.”

“You WHAT?” Surely Mark was smart enough to understand and practice safe sex.

“I asked her to marry me before I came back to the ship. The next time we were together, we got married. My family was there, and her niece and nephews and one of her friends. That was it. You’re the only person here that knows.”

“Because Juan doesn’t like her.”

“Yeah. And we’ve been trying since then. Nothing. So, I want to know if there’s some way to get my sperm to Eleanor so we can do AI or IVF or something.” He took a deep breath. “A few days ago, we asked the Chairman if Eleanor could come here, and he shut it down. We didn’t get to tell him we were married. He just said no, and he wasn’t nice about it. We were on Skype, and Eleanor just switched off. Emotionally. She’s been holed up in the apartment and won’t email me or take my calls. Her niece said she’s been crying since we talked to Juan. She sent me one email, and I can’t get her to talk to me. She’s devastated.” His wife was hurting and alone and he couldn’t get to her to comfort her.

Juan Cabrillo, Julia thought, you’re better at reading people than this, and I’m ashamed of you. Mark looked so upset. “Let me look into it, Mark. There may be something.”

“Please don’t tell the Chairman. I think Eleanor would be even more upset if he knew. I was going to invite everyone to the wedding, but she asked me not to do.” He looked down at his hands between his knees, then looked back up at Julia. “I love my job. This is the only place I’ve ever felt respected and part of a team. I love it. But I love my wife. She deserves better than a part-time husband if she’s giving up all her dreams. I don’t want to quit, but I think I love Eleanor more.”  
0--------------------------0  
Julia knocked on the door of Linda’s cabin. “Come!” was the response and Julia closed it behind her, then sat on Linda’s sofa. 

“We need to talk. About Murph.” Julia looked concerned.

Linda picked up on Julia’s distress. “What’s wrong?” 

“Well, Ms. Vice President, if we don’t fix this, we’re losing our weapons officer.”

“What? Why?” Mark loved his job. He’d told her this many times.

“I’m not sure if I’m just violating a confidence or helping him out, but I need to know what you think.” Deep breath. “Rumor is Murph has a girlfriend, right?”

“Yeah. Eleanor something. And rumor is Juan doesn’t like her.”

“All true. Except for one thing. Eleanor isn’t Murph’s girlfriend.

“Then what—” Linda was confused.

Julia dropped the bombshell. “She’s his wife.”

“What the fuck! His wife? They’re married?” Linda was as incredulous as Julia had been. “Why didn’t he tell anyone?” 

“Juan really doesn’t like her. Murph doesn’t know why, exactly, and I don’t dare ask Juan yet. I thought, since we’re coming into New York, that you and I could go meet her and see what’s up. Then we’ll know how to approach Juan.”

“We’ll have time to get there and have coffee or something.” Linda thought for a moment. “Let’s do it.”  
0-------------------------0  


The pain was physical. It hurt so much she couldn't sit up. Eleanor went inside her mind and reviewed her life. Her mother hadn't wanted a fifth child, not after her fourth son died in infancy. SIDS. She certainly hadn't wanted a daughter--Elaine didn't like women. Eleanor had heard this every day. Every day, she was alone in someone else's country--school--dorm--house. All she'd ever wanted was a place that was hers, where she belonged, and someone to belong to. A home, a husband, children. Now, those dreams were gone. Her life was shattered on the rocks of one man's hatred. What had she ever done except help him with that manuscript?

When she could sit up, she opened her email to write to Mark. She loved him so much. Every day, whether he was with her or not, she loved him more. How could she give up the love of her life? But she had to do. What she wanted didn't matter. All that mattered was what was best for Mark. And that was for her to be out of his life. Her hands were shaking so badly it took her an hour to write the letter.

My darling Mark:

I love you. You know I love you. Beyond space, beyond time, beyond reason, beyond death, I love you. I will always love you. I would do anything for you, give everything for you. No sacrifice is too great if it means I can have you. I can only be happy if you are happy.

The Chairman doesn’t approve of me or our relationship. I thought we could be married in spite of that, but I had a visit from Linda Ross and Julia Huxley yesterday. I cannot think why they would come here except that I have become a liability to you. We should not be together, and I must not stand in your way. You love your job. You love your team and you are important to them. The work you do is important. I realize now that you won’t be able to do your job if we are together. 

Please--find someone beautiful who loves you and who has the respect of your friends. I know that isn’t me. I have only one part of that equation and it isn’t enough. You deserve to be happy with someone as wonderful as you are.

I will file for divorce as soon as possible and expedite the process. I’ve written a letter of instruction to my attorney regarding the distribution of my property as per our prenup. I ask only that you make sure my children are cared for going forward. The Leah Foundation will need a new board member. I suggest you ask Linda or Julia to fill the position. Either of them would be an asset to the Foundation if you choose to continue it. I will remain in Virginia through the end of the semester and I will not be returning to my position at Old Dominion.

All my love--forever—Eleanor  
0------------------------0  
Hali Kasim took a call from Mark in the conference room. They’d left New York after barely two days, and Mark hadn’t been able to go to Virginia to see Eleanor. Juan wouldn't let him go. Only Linda and Julia had gone off the ship but he didn't know why. “What’s up?” Hali asked.

“Would you ask Linda if she could come to the conference room? I need to talk to her.”

When Linda walked into the conference room, Julia was already there. She did a double take at Mark. The look on his face! She saw anger, yes, but there was also worry and something else. Despair? 

“What’s up, Mark?” she asked.

“What did you do?” He looked back and forth between the women.

“What do you mean?” Julia asked first. 

Mark handed them his tablet. The email he’d received from Eleanor was pulled up, and they read it. Julia sat heavily in one of the chairs. Linda visibly paled, and the women looked at each other, then back at Mark. “Mark—” Linda started.

“What did you say to her?” He sounded angry, but also sad.

They looked at each other, then at Mark. Linda started again, “Mark, we wanted to meet her and talk to her. Just get to know her. Maybe have coffee. I was hoping to be able to talk to Juan about her, tell him why he should—” She looked at Julia.

“Get to know her. Figure out what his problem is with her. We were hoping to help you with the visits.” Julia tried to sound positive when she felt anything but.

“How do you get from that, to she thinks you went to see her to get rid of her?” Mark started pacing. “I can’t find her. **_I_** cannot find her. My wife is missing, and I cannot find her.”

Julia had to ask, “You don’t think she’d…hurt herself?” If Eleanor was that upset, who knew what she might do?

He started pacing. “No. I think she’s fixing things so I can’t stop her from doing this. Once the Chairman said no, she was convinced he’d never change his mind about her. Then you went to see her. She didn’t want me to have to choose, so she’s choosing for me.”

“What can we do, Mark?” Linda asked quietly. She felt like shit. She’d meant to help, and she’d made things a hundred times worse.

He stopped pacing and looked her straight in the eye. “Get me off this ship. Cash me out. I’m done. I’ve got to find my wife. And I won’t work with him again. Not after this.” With that, he grabbed his tablet and went to his quarters.

Julia turned to Linda. “Where’s Juan?”  
0--------------------------0  
They found him with Max in the dining room. 

“We need to talk to both of you. Privately.” Julia had her arms crossed across her chest and was glaring at Juan. “My office. Now.” Both men rose. It wasn't wise to argue with Doc Huxley when she used that tone of voice.

Neither Linda nor Julia spoke on their way to the medical bay. After the four were in Julia’s office and the door was closed, Linda started, “Mark is in his quarters, packing. He just quit and asked me to cash him out.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Both men were aghast. After an identical opening statement, they started throwing questions at Linda.

She held up her hands to stop them. “Juan, this is your fault. Squarely your fault. It’s because of Eleanor.”

Juan was angry now. Would he ever be rid of that woman? “Eleanor! What? Did she give him an ultimatum? Get him to quit?”

“Quite the opposite, in fact.” Julia’s turn. “She’s giving him up.”

“But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Juan was relieved he wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore.

Julia gave him a stern look. This had to stop. “No, Juan, it’s not.” 

He opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could say anything, Linda raised a hand to forestall him.

Her voice was hard. “She’s his wife.”

“WIFE!” Again, both men spoke at once. Juan just gaped—very little surprised him, but this was unbelievable.

Julia added, “Yes. They got married less than a month after that mission. That Skype call? They wanted to tell you they were married and ask you if she could come visit Mark here because they’re trying to have a baby.”

“He’s quitting so she can have a baby?” Max was puzzled. You had sex, your wife got pregnant, you had a baby. Big deal.

“They’ve been trying. For six months, apparently. She’s almost 34. It’s not that easy at this point, and they can’t seem to get together at the right time. I’m violating a confidence telling you this, by the way. He told me when he came to ask me about AI or IVF.” Julia felt so small.

“AI?” That wasn’t something Max had heard of before.

“Artificial insemination. In vitro fertilization. Something they could do without being in the same place.” Julia took a deep breath. “Eleanor was an agent. Just like you. For ten years. Mark says she faked her own death to get out of it. I don’t know any more about it than that. He said she wanted three things. Her parents were with the State Department, and she’s never lived in her own home. She wants Mark, a home, and a family. To keep him happy, she gave up ‘home’ until Mark is done here. You wouldn’t let her come here, so she gave up family. We went to see her, to meet her, and somehow she thought we were…warning her off…so she’s giving him up so he can keep working for the Corporation.”

Linda took over. “We pulled into the driveway and she was getting something out of her car. She recognized us, I don’t know how, and I will never forget the sound she made.” She shuddered. “She thought we were there to tell her Mark was dead, and she made this horrible noise. I can’t describe it—but it was horrible. She dropped to her knees and almost fainted. Julia got her back up on her feet, and we assured her Mark was okay. We talked to her for about five minutes, we couldn’t get her to understand that we just wanted to talk. She was…hurt. Confused. So upset.” Linda remembered the look on her face. Emptiness. “She went into the house, shaking, like a zombie, and we left. We didn’t want to upset her anymore.”

Julia’s turn. “The next day, she sent him an email. She told him she loves him, she’s divorcing him, and he should find someone 'beautiful' that we like because we’ll never accept her. Now, she’s gone to ground, and Mark can’t find her. MARK can’t find her. Mark cannot find his wife.”

“Juan, what is it that you don’t like about Eleanor?” Linda was puzzled. No one had ever figured out what had happened. “This makes no sense to me.”

Juan was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped between them. He sighed, trying to gather his thoughts and explain. “I don’t know.” He didn’t really know; he'd never analyzed the animosity himself. “We knew nothing about her. She never explained anything, never told us about herself. No qualifications, and a…superior attitude. Then she threw her coffee on me. I thought she was seducing Mark for some ulterior motive. Or she was after his money.”

"Not after his money. They have a prenup. She insisted on it for just the reason you think." Julia had asked him about it. "If he files for divorce, they keep what they each had before they married. If she files for divorce, and that's what she's doing, she gives him everything. All of her assets. Except for $20,000. She walks away with nothing."

“You need to go talk to him,” Linda said. “Hopefully, he’ll listen to you and tell you what’s going on. If you can’t fix this, you’re losing Mark. And you need to get him to Virginia right now.”  
0----------------------0  
Mark was intent on his laptop. He was trying to find Eleanor, still without success. She wasn’t with her niece and nephew, or her brother and sister-in-law. Laura had gone to the apartment and Eleanor wasn’t there. There were no plane, train, or bus tickets. He’d gone back several days and looked at traffic cams—nothing. She'd just vanished. There was a knock on his door.

He opened it to find the Chairman and almost closed it in his face.

“Murph, may I speak with you, please? I need to apologize.”

Mark turned away and went back to his computer without saying anything.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Juan was sincerely contrite. He’d hurt someone in his family and that wasn’t acceptable.

Mark wasn’t having it. “No. You just didn’t **care.** For some reason, you hate Eleanor. Is it because she spilled coffee on you? She didn’t do that deliberately. She’s not petty. She’s really very kind.” As her husband, Mark had seen the things she did for her niece and nephews, for her students, for people in the community. For his family. "And it wasn't just dropping the coffee. I followed her out to her car; she was shaking so hard she couldn't unlock her car with the key fob."

Juan sighed. He nodded. He’d known it wasn’t deliberate, he just didn’t want to admit it. Try another way. He cleared some things off Murph’s other chair and sat down. “Tell me about her," he asked gently. "Why did you two get married? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Mark closed the laptop and turned in his chair. 

“We knew. Nothing in my life has ever felt right like Eleanor feels right. Not MIT, not the Corporation, nothing. I love her.” Mark ran his hand down his face. “We didn’t want to wait, and she was sure—obviously—that you’d be against it, so we only had family at our wedding. I haven’t even told Stoney. I couldn’t have my best friend at my wedding so he wouldn’t ever have to lie to you about it.”

What could he say to that? Mark was right. Six months ago, he would have had a lot to say about Mark getting married, much less that quickly, and to Eleanor. He would have done everything he could to talk Mark out of it. “We didn’t find out anything about her. I think that’s part of it.”

“We asked her to help us. She didn't come to us. Max, the computer, recommended her, so there had to be a reason. She is amazingly qualified." He paused. "Everything we needed to know is out there. Just not as Eleanor Harris. She changed her name.” Deep breath. “Eleanor was an agent. Like you and Eddie. Just not with the CIA.”

He hadn't believed Julia when she told him that. “She was an agent! Seriously?” That mousy little woman was an intelligence agent? Wait. Of course she was. She was probably—no, obviously—very good at blending in and not being noticed. 

“Eleanor hated the work she did. Hated it. That's why she never talks about it. Why she never told us anything. Working on this just brought it all back. All the bad memories. She told me she made some enemies who would have looked for her forever if they knew she was still alive. So she faked her own death.” Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “She faked her own death by calling in an airstrike on her own position, using her locator beacon—” He had one and Juan had one. “And taking out an IED factory. I can't figure out how she did it and she won't tell me. She spilled her coffee because she has nerve damage from the blast.”

“She told you this?” Juan was incredulous. That was highly unlikely considering the way the locator beacons worked. Could they believe her?

“Tom Leary confirmed it.” Mark opened his laptop and did a quick search. “Here’s her death notice. _Al Jazeera_ covered the airstrike and mentions her in the article.” He turned the laptop for Juan to see.

“My god. I remember that.” There had been chatter about the IED factory destruction; and that a coalition agent died. Nur Asim. "Nur is Eleanor,” Juan translated, “Asim?”

“Meaning is the same as her last name, Harris. Her books, and she has four in print and one that will be out in January, are published under a pseudonym. Farahnaz El-Noor.” Mark looked at Juan. He saw disbelief on the Chairman’s face. “She has a contract for seven books with the DLI in a series for the female engagement teams. Each one is a different language.”

“So she speaks eight languages?” He’d had no idea.

“No.” Mark paused for emphasis and looked intently at Juan. “Eleanor speaks or knows 34 languages, not including that code she helped us with.”

“Thirty-four? Sweet Jesus. Are you serious? Thirty-four?” How was that even possible? Juan was really incredulous now.

“You say you have an ear for languages. Eleanor has a gift—a very special gift. And Tom Leary confirmed that, too. He’s known her for almost 20 years.”

“She was MI-6?” That explained Tom’s white face when he saw Eleanor through the conference room window.

“No, they went to Oxford together. She got her first Ph.D. at 20. Just like I did. Her **second** was that key." Juan's expression was even more puzzled. "Yeah, she developed the key.”

“Not MI-6, not CIA, then who?” He would have known if she was CIA. Lang Overholt would have told him.

Mark looked around like someone might hear. “She’s never said, but I think she was DGSE. BND. Or Mossad.” It explained a lot, like her secretiveness about her time working in the Middle East.

“Are you kidding?” Juan looked at Mark, and Mark wasn’t smiling.

Juan didn’t usually misread people this badly. That could be fatal. “Let me guess. One of her languages is Russian.” 

Mark nodded. Yes.

“Shit. So she knew everything Kurt and I said in the conference room.”

“I’m sure she did. I’m sure that’s why she didn’t go to dinner with us that night. She was really upset by it, whatever it was, and she lied about having other plans. I followed her to her car. She was crying.”

That was great. They had been so rude and dismissive about her personal attributes and professional qualifications, they'd made a woman cry. “She didn’t tell you what we said?”

“No. Never.” Mark stood up. “Whatever you’ve done, whatever you’ve said, it’s all between you and Eleanor. She’s never told me anything, she’s never said anything bad about you. Never.” Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “She never told me to quit my job. She said we’d find a way to work it out. She would wait for a home, and for me, but we can’t wait for a baby. When you said no, she shut down. She didn’t talk to me for three days. Then Linda and Julia scared her off. If I can find her, I’m not making her wait for me anymore.”

“I can’t change your mind?” Juan didn’t want to lose Mark, but it had to be Mark’s decision.

“No. I can’t work for someone who is disrespectful to my wife.” No hesitation. Mark was done.

“Mark, I—” Juan started. “It will never, never happen again.” He stood, too. “And we’ll find her. Every resource we have, we’ll find her.”  
0---------------------------0  


It was chance Tom had found Eleanor before she disappeared. He'd come down from Washington for the day, just to see Eleanor, and he'd found her putting a suitcase in her car, sobbing, almost incoherent. Five minutes later and she would have been gone. He'd taken her back to Washington, put her on the diplomatic plane, and taken her to Ireland instead.

“I’ve got to find him.” Tom Leary looked at the woman sitting with his grandmother by the fireplace in her kitchen. “Anna, she can’t live like this. She won’t tell us anything, and I can’t stand seeing her like this.” Eleanor was gaunt, drawn, despondent—empty. She looked worse than Tom had ever seen her. He’d worked with her in Afghanistan several times, and she’d been in dire straits then; the last time, she was malnourished and homeless.

“She was so happy, and now this.” Anna moved into her husband’s arms. She knew how much she relied on Tom’s love, and how Eleanor must feel now. They’d been at Mark and Eleanor’s wedding, the only non-family members there. “Do you know how to find the _Oregon?”_

“No, but I know who does. Lang Overholt. He’s my CIA contact. I’ll call him.” Tom looked at his watch. “It’s early there, but I think he lives in his office.”  


0----------------------------0  


“Chairman, Overholt is calling for you.” Hali Kasim took the call at his communication station. 

“Route it to the conference room.” It was closer than his cabin.  


0----------------------------0  
“Lang! What’s up? Another job for us?” Juan still hadn’t fully processed his conversation with Murph, and a new assignment would be a welcome distraction.

“Not today. The world is quiet just now. But it’s not breakfast time yet.” Overholt chuckled, then turned serious. “No, I have a message from Tom Leary.”

“Leary! What does he want?”

“More like who. Mark Murphy. What the hell is going on with Mark?” Lang had met Mark and knew his background.

Juan paused. Mark? Why would Tom Leary—or MI-6—be interested in Mark? “I have no idea what you mean. No idea what he wants. Did he say anything?”

“He gave me a message for Dr. Murphy. Only for Mark.”

Wait, Juan thought to himself. Tom Leary knew Eleanor, maybe he knew where Eleanor had gone. “Is it about Eleanor?”

Lang was taken aback. It was about Eleanor. “How did you know?”

“Mark is looking for her.”

“I didn’t think you liked Eleanor.” Lang had heard all about Eleanor and the manuscript she'd translated, and knew Juan’s opinion of her.

“I didn’t. But I’ve changed my mind. Hang on a second.” Juan put Lang on hold and called Hali on the intercom. “Hali, get Murph in here.”

Juan went back to Lang’s call while he waited for Mark. Mark came in, still with a haggard expression. “What? I’m trying to pack.”

“Lang Overholt has a message for you. From Tom Leary.” Juan pushed the button. “Lang, you’re on speaker.”

“Mark, this message is to Dr. Murphy from Tom Leary. Word for word. ‘What the fuck, you stupid eejit? What’s wrong with Eleanor? What did you do to your wife?"

Mark perked up visibly. “Eleanor! Does he know where Eleanor is right now?”

“That’s all he said, but he gave a phone number. I suggest you call. I’ll send the number.”  
0-----------------------------0  
“Tom Leary.” Tom answered his phone, suspecting that the restricted number might be the call he was hoping for.

“Where’s Eleanor?” Lang had emailed the number and it had come through immediately. Mark had the SAT phone and called, with Juan still in the room. He was pacing, distraught. Finally, he might get some answers.

“Doctor Murphy!” Tom was angry and it showed in his voice. “What the actual fuck did you do to your wife?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Mark looked daggers at Juan. “Do you know where she is?”

“Then what the fuck is going on?” Tom was back to his Irish accent.

“Leary, this is Juan Cabrillo.” He looked at Mark. “There was a misunderstanding, but it was my fault, not Mark’s. Mark is going crazy trying to find her. Please, if you know where she is…”

“Please. Where’s Eleanor? I can’t find her.” Mark’s voice broke. “She wants to leave me. I’m so worried about her. I can’t let her do this!”

Tom remembered their wedding. Small, few guests, all immediate family with the exception of him and Anna. She’d been so alone all her life. In Mark, she had found someone to love. If he felt Mark had hurt her, he would have kept him away from Eleanor forever, but it sounded like Mark was in as bad shape as Eleanor.

“She’s okay. Sort of. She’s here in Ireland with my grandmother. Can you come?” His voice dropped low. “Mark, she needs you.” Mark’s relief was immediate.

Juan spoke before Mark could. “We’ll get him there. Within twenty-four hours.”  
0----------------------------0  
Two women, one old, one young, knelt in a pew in the small church. The relief he felt at seeing her was palpable. Mark stood in the back and watched them for a moment, then walked up beside them. 

0------------------------0

The words didn’t come. If she concentrated on clearing her mind, she couldn’t remember the words. If she focused on remembering the words, too many things crowded in and forced them out of her mind. She thought of Mark and how much she would miss him. Of the physical pain of losing him. Of Juan and his coworkers and their animosity. Of knowing she would never have the things she’d dreamed of all her life. Of what she would do and where she would go now that she had nothing--no money, no home, no job. No Mark. Everything went in circles, and she couldn’t even pray.

“Eleanor?” His voice was quiet in the sacred space.

Now she was hearing voices. Had she started imagining him? Would she be tormented hearing his voice for the rest of her life?

“Eleanor? Sweetheart?”

She looked over. It was him! Mark! What was he doing here?

There was room in the pew, so Mark sat down next to her and pulled her into his embrace. “Oh, Els. I was so scared.”

Eleanor started crying. “What are you doing here?” Her arms were around his neck and she couldn’t let go.

“I love you. I can’t let you leave me. Please, Els, don’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to. I love you so much. But it’s your job.” She was still crying into his shoulder.

“Not anymore. I quit.”

Eleanor pushed away from him. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

“Yeah. I quit. If I have to choose, you or the Corporation, I’m choosing you.”  
0------------------------------0  
“He wants to apologize in person.” Mark and Eleanor were sitting by the fire in Grandmother Leary’s kitchen. “Please?” Mark’s arm was around her and they were cuddling together. 

“I don’t know, Mark. It’s still kind of raw.” It was whiplash, going from hatred to apology in a day.

“I know.” He pulled her closer and kissed her ear. “We’ll have our blessing with Father Patrick, then go to the ship. The _Oregon_ is just off the territorial limit. Gomez will take us out in the helicopter. You said you don’t mind flying.” She still looked skeptical.

“Eleanor Murphy!” Gran had turned from the oven and was standing with her arms akimbo. Her voice said she meant business. Eleanor sat up straight. “Eleanor Murphy! You will go and you will accept his apology gracefully. You’re a strong woman. Now act like it. No bunking off.”  
0--------------------------0  
“The Mass is ended. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” Mark and Eleanor turned to face the Irish congregation. Father Patrick announced proudly, “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Mark Murphy.”

There were cheers and applause from the small assembly, and Mark and Eleanor walked out of the church together. A car was waiting, and they drove to the airfield with Eric Stone. Mark finally had his best friend to stand up with him. A tall man with a cowboy hat and handlebar mustache was waiting at the helicopter.

“So you’re the famous Eleanor!” Gomez greeted Eleanor with an outstretched hand. “Congratulations! Let’s get this show on the road!”  
0------------------------0  
“That’s the _Oregon?”_ Eleanor looked down at the rusting hulk that disguised the state-of-the-art warship. “It’s brilliant! It looks like total junk!”

“Brilliant?” Gomez came back over the headset.

“Absolutely! Who would suspect that heap?”

“Junk? Heap!” Eric was horrified. “Don’t let the Chairman hear you say that! The _Oregon_ is his pride and joy.”

When they’d landed and taken the helicopter down to the hanger, the group headed for the dining room. “We’ll have lunch first, then have a tour.” Mark pulled her in and kissed her cheek. She hugged him back. “The Chairman says the dining room looks like an English gentlemen’s club. That should look familiar.”

“I’m sure there are dining rooms like it at Oxford, so, yes. Not that I ever saw many of them.” Eleanor laughed. She hadn't gotten many invitations as a teenager in that rarified adult world.

Mark opened the door to the dining room and cheers erupted from most of the crew. “Surprise!” A very well-planned and well-attended wedding reception had been prepared for them. There was a large, decorated cake and a buffet luncheon.

Eleanor was stunned. She had expected to spend most of her day on the _Oregon_ in Mark’s cabin—with Mark back at work, not in his bed. She hadn’t expected to see anyone besides the Chairman and maybe a few of the crew during her time on the ship. She couldn’t help the tears that slid down her cheeks.

Mark pulled her in for another hug. “Hey, don’t cry. It’s okay. I thought it would be a nice surprise for you. And it was the Chairman’s idea.”

“This is why you wouldn’t let me change.” Eleanor was still wearing the dress she had worn at their wedding and for their convalidation. Her niece had sent it overnight from Virginia .

“Well…maybe. But I also know what’s under it,” he whispered in her ear. She was wearing a push-up bustier with garter belt and stockings. Turns out, Mark had a thing for lingerie…

Lunch moved on until it was time to cut the cake. Eleanor had been very impressed with the traditional English wedding breakfast (actually lunch) the chef had prepared. When she and Mark went to cut the cake, Maurice was there to hand them the knife, dressed in his typical suit, mirror-polished shoes, and immaculate white apron. “You must be Maurice.” She pronounced it properly (as far as Maurice was concerned—‘Morris’). “Thank you so much for the lovely luncheon. It’s wonderful to have proper English tea.”

“You are most welcome, Dr. Murphy,” he said solemnly as he nodded his head. He knew Eleanor had gone to Oxford and suspected she would be a tea drinker. “I know you are American, but this is also a proper English wedding cake.”

A tear slid down her cheek. She whispered, “How did you know this is what I wanted? We had that nasty white nonsense the first time.” 

Maurice was known for his calm, unflappable demeanor and stoic expression. The crew members gaped as he gave Eleanor a huge smile. “My pleasure, Dr. Murphy. I wish you every happiness.” Then he laughed, “Nasty white nonsense. Indeed.”  
0----------------------0  


Mark was changing out of his suit. Eleanor was sitting on the bed, watching him. “What did you think, Els?”

“I can’t believe you surprised me.” She loved looking at him.

“**I** can’t believe I surprised you. I surprised a spy.” He was now wearing a t-shirt that said ‘Groom,’ rather than his traditional smart-ass quote or punk band name. 

“Mark?” Was that a placating tone in her voice?

“What, Els?”

Yes, it was. “Honey, you’re a spy, too. You do realize that, don’t you?” 

He laughed, then came over and kissed her. “I’m sorry I have to go to work.”

“Mark, you have a job. I’ll see you later.” She kissed him back. “I’m going to work on some edits for my book.” 

He slid his hand up her skirt so he could feel her garter belt and the bare skin on the inside of her thigh. “Mmm… I love this.” 

“Hold that thought.” She loved those hands. 

“Eleanor, when I’m not working, that is ALL I think about. You, me, naked. Sex.” Ooh, that leer! Sexy!

“Good. Don’t stop. Thinking about it.” They kissed again, and someone knocked on the door.

Mark stood up. “Come.”

The door opened and Juan came in. “I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No, I’m just going on shift.” He kissed her again. “Be nice, Els.” He stood and walked out the door with a nod to Juan.

“Captain?” Eleanor asked, knowing why he’d come, but waiting for him to start.

He sat in the only chair that wasn’t covered with Mark’s stuff. On the ship, only Maurice called him ‘Captain;’ everyone else called him Chairman. With a heavy sigh, he said “Not another one!” He rolled his eyes, then became very serious. “I’m here to apologize. I’m very sorry I upset you.” He paused. “No, that’s not right, not enough.” He paused and groped for the right words. “I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to get to know you. I should have. I was rude and unprofessional, and I’m sorry. I think I missed a lot by not figuring you out.”

Her voice was quiet. “Apology accepted.”

“Would you consider working for me?” Juan was serious. Thirty-four languages and field experience? He’d find something for her to do.

She had a wry smile. “Thank you, but no. I have another two years before my niece graduates, and then I’m contemplating writing full time. And I’m not physically able to do this anymore.” She waved a hand indicating the ship.

“Desk job?” She shook her head ‘no’ again. Disappointing, but what he’d expected. “Fair enough. I have a question for you. Mark showed me the email you sent. You said ‘your children?’ What children? I thought you didn’t have children?” 

“Question: How did you get the money to buy the _Oregon?”_ She knew the answer but was making a point. 

He looked at her quizzically. What did this have to do with her children? “I…reallocated it. From someone who didn’t need it anymore.” He’d taken over the bank accounts of a dead assassin.

“I know how to reallocate money, too.” She waited for that to sink in and took a deep breath. “I had to do something with the children I took out of sex trafficking. I made arrangements with an orphanage in Pakistan. It’s run by Mother Theresa’s order.” She went back in time in her mind. “The first group of children, I walked them in with a briefcase full of money. It gave the nuns enough money to care for that group and their existing children for several years. I kept bringing children and money. They kept expanding. Now, I fund four orphanages in northern Pakistan. Housing, food, clothing, school supplies, teachers, security.”

Her children. Of course, she’d think of them that way. “The Leah Foundation?” She’d mentioned it—'if Mark chose to continue it.’

“I had a lot of money to…distribute. The Foundation gives educational scholarships and entrepreneurial grants to women who show the potential to contribute to their communities.” She looked him right in the eye. “That’s where I send the money from my translation services. My orphanages Or the Leah Foundation.”

Well, shit. That five dollars wasn't funny now. “So I need to write you a check.” He was really sorry he'd marginalized her talent. It was worth the $275 per hour he hadn't paid.

“No, you can write my orphans a check. I’ll have Mark give you the address.” She waited for him to continue.

“You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you?” Juan looked at her intently.

She looked right back. “No. I am not.” 

Oh, heck, she thought, then smiled, then looked serious again. “What are we going to do about Mark? You know I never wanted him to quit.”

“I do now. How about this: If he can, he’ll come to you. If he can’t, and it’s safe, you’ll come to him. But you can’t be on the _Oregon_ if you’re pregnant. I couldn’t handle the anxiety. I know Mark wouldn’t put you at risk when we’re working.”

“I know. I think that sounds like a plan.” She waited again. 

“Most of the crew knows, but you probably don’t. I think one reason I’ve been…reluctant…to support married crew members is my wife.”

“You’re married?” Mark hadn’t mentioned that.

“She died.” Juan still felt guilt over Amy’s death. “I was gone so much, she started drinking. She went through rehab twice and died driving drunk. This business is tough on marriages.” He looked very uncomfortable talking about her.

“And, of course, you blame yourself.” Before he could speak, she continued. “And I'm sure many people have told you it's not your fault. It's not. And I don't feel sorry for her at all. She was responsible for her behavior, not you. She could have made better choices."

Juan looked surprised by that. Not what he’d expect a woman to say.

“I know what Mark does for a living. It’s dangerous. I know because I’ve done it. And you need to know I never wanted to do it. I hated the work. I don’t know why I stayed so long.” She looked away, then back again. “I always wanted to be a teacher and have a husband and a family. But I’m willing to sacrifice for Mark. He is SO worth it.” 

“I’m glad to know that’s what you think. Mark isn’t just an employee. He’s important to me personally, too. My crew is my family now.” There was a long pause and they looked at each other; finally, Juan broke the silence. “Junk? Heap? This ship is my home!”

Eleanor laughed. “Before I said ‘junk’ or ‘heap’ I did say 'brilliant.' Remember, I do know a little about disguises." Didn't she just! "This ship is amazing.”

Big smile. “Okay. Brilliant and amazing. I can live with that.” He rose. “What are you doing while Mark’s working?”

“I have revisions to finish for book number six, I need to flesh out number seven—it’s just outlined, and I’m working on a novel. I have lots to keep me occupied.”

“Eight books. I’m impressed. Is one in Arabic?” And he knew she'd done all of it in not quite four years.

She nodded. “Number seven. It covers more regions and countries so it’s much longer. I decided to save it until last. I’ll send you a copy. Assuming you want to read about babies and children and assorted womanly things.” Periods, pregnancy, childbirth, mothering.

“Well…I don’t think it will kill me. And I want to read it. Really.” He walked to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
0----------------------0  
It was late when Mark came off shift. He was sure Eleanor would be in bed, asleep by now. She was on the bed, not in it, and she was asleep, but she was still in her wedding dress. He hated to wake her, but he knew she’d left that dress on just for him to take off. And he knew she’d want to make love. Mark took off his shoes and crawled onto the bed.

He kissed her awake. “I miss you already, Els.” He ran his hand up and down her thigh, slipping it under her skirt.

“I miss you, too.” She kissed him back and ran her hands into his pants. 

When they came up for air, it was morning, and time for Eleanor to leave. She’d fly back to Ireland with Gomez, then go home to Virginia. They’d work it out.  
0--------------------0  
Mark’s tablet gave him an email alert. [Are you able to talk?] was Eleanor’s message. 

[Sure am, Els. Stoney and I are playing _Counterstrike._]

[Of course you are. Two things: I’m sending out some books. Be sure Cabrillo gets one of each. I’m interested to know what he thinks of the novel.] Romantic suspense; a mystery with a romance and some good sex scenes. Mark had helped her improve those. She sent a link to a listing on the MLS of Virginia Beach. It was an older home on a large lot with mature trees and a big back yard.

[Looks good! But that’s a long way from ODU.]

[I resigned, Mark. I’m not going back after the sabbatical. Edgerton is still pissed I got tenure and he didn’t. So I'm walking.] And the politics were too much to deal with when she didn’t need the job.

She resigned? He'd expected it, honestly. [House needs work.] He’d scrolled through the pictures. That thing needed a lot of work.

[I can handle the contractors. It’s what we talked about wanting in a house. I can do a virtual tour and send pics to decide on renovations. Biggest question: cash or mortgage?]

[???]

[It would look funny if we didn’t have a mortgage. Appearances. But we can’t exactly report all your income. Or mine. How does the Corporation handle this?]

[I’ll find out. Let’s go for it. How long do you think it will take?]

[It’s May. If I push it, we can be settled before Christmas. You should put in for leave in December.]

[Christmas together?] Smiley face icon.

[Yeah. With the baby.] Smiley face and heart icon.

Mark looked at Stoney. “Baby!” They heard his ‘whoo hoo!’ on the bridge.


End file.
